


sweeten the pot

by joyyjpg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Dean, Demon Bela, First Time, M/M, POV Outsider, Voyeurism, briefly mentions past non-con (re: bela's past)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyyjpg/pseuds/joyyjpg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sure we can work out some kind of compromise. But given the trouble I'll have to go through to get you what you want, it's going to take a lot more than a kiss." Post-S5 AU: Dean and Castiel encounter Bela at the crossroads and make a deal to bring Sam back. Rather than kissing her to seal it, she suggests something much more interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweeten the pot

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for a kink meme prompt on lj way back in 2011. potential sequel coming...uh, one day?

She bought her way off the rack within a year. That was probably the first thing that caught everyone's attention, because _no one_ gets off the rack without putting the blade in their own hand. She worked her way up and soon she was the best the crossroads had ever seen, second only to Crowley but even that would change eventually.

All her natural talent served her better below than she ever could have imagined – she racked up enough favors with the right demons, started calling them in and even got her human body back. (She has a problem with possession. Every other demon in Hell thinks it's ridiculous, but it isn't that she's altruistic or anything. Possession is taking control of an unwilling person, bending their body to your will, using them, raping them. Even after all the years and the change the Pit has had on her, she still remembers what that's like.)

Then came the apocalypse that never really was. All of the demons fell in line behind Lucifer, clamoring to his side, hoping to secure their place in his good graces when the world was his. Not Bela. She stayed behind – waiting, planning. Because nothing ever goes as it should when the Winchesters are involved, so she wasn't at all shocked when Lucifer plummeted back into his cage, dragging Sam and an archangel with him. The grand plan came crashing down and Hell was left in chaos. 

These days Lucifer is too busy trying to rip his brother to shreds to care that his kingdom is falling into ruin. Crowley stepped up to the plate, as everyone knew he would, but he seems to have plans of his own. No one really knows what they are and Bela doesn't particularly care. She rules the crossroads. For now, she's perfectly content.

She isn't surprised to find Dean Winchester on an especially desolate crossing in South Dakota, frustrated and screaming for her to _come out, come out, wherever you are_. It was only a matter of time before he came knocking, ready to offer himself up to free his brother from the cage. She's just about to make herself known when Dean suddenly has company.

“Fuck off.”

“Dean, this isn't the way.”

“It's the _only_ way, Cas.”

She remembers him – _Castiel_ – remembers the day he tore through Alistair's funhouse and pulled Dean from the flames, shining so brightly that most demons couldn't look at him without losing their eyes. She can still see that light, can still feel that same righteous energy that shook Hell to it's foundations thrumming just beneath his skin, but it's different now, tainted by his fall from grace.

And there's something else too – something about the way he and Dean are talking to each other, the way they move and how they look at each other – a completely different kind of energy, crackling between them like a live wire. Isn't _that_ interesting?

“This won't solve anything.”

“If it gets him back, it'll solve everything.”

“And what do you think he'll do when he gets here? He'll be standing right where you are, trying to bring _you_ back. You can't keep doing this. It has to stop.”

“You saying I should just leave him down there?”

“I'm saying we'll find another way. We just need more time.”

Dean ignores him, turning away and sauntering back to the center of the crossing like he's so sure of himself when everyone here knows he isn't. “Here I am, sweetheart!”

“There's no need to shout.”

They both spin around. It takes Dean a bit to piece it all together; Bela can almost see the gears grinding in that brain of his as he teeters on the edge of recognition, until – _oh_ – his eyes go wide. _“You.”_

She gives him her best smile. “It's been a long time, Dean. Have you missed me?”

It's honestly adorable the way he just blinks at her, dumbstruck, before he collects himself and plasters on that smirk she remembers so well. “Well, I'll be damned. They stuck you out here working the crossroads, huh?”

“Oh, sweetie, you underestimate me.” She makes her way over to them, watching them watch her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Of course, she already knows the answer. “Sam.”

She shrugs. “What of him?”

“Get him out.” Dean's all single-minded determination now, as if he's ever had the power to order her to do anything. “Bring him back.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Me.”

“Dean,” Castiel interjects, finally deciding to contribute to the conversation, but he gets cut short when Bela starts to laugh.

She can't help it. It would be endearing if it wasn't so pathetic. Dean doesn't have anything left but himself, a battered soul that's already been through this song and dance before. The first time he'd had a purpose to serve, but now? He'd just be one more damned spirit, one more demon, dead weight in a sea full of others just like him. The offer isn't even remotely tempting.

“Dean,” she says, positively beaming. “How can I put this to you gently? You're used goods. You've already sold your soul once before and I'm afraid it's just not worth what it used to be.”

Dean's expression goes dark. “Then what? What the hell do you want?”

It's a good question. Dean's soul isn't _entirely_ worthless – she can think of a few pissed off demons he's exorcised in his time who'd love to get their hands on him. But she isn't inclined to do them any favors, so there's nothing particularly special about Dean, nothing he can offer her that would be worth her trouble.

His friend, however, is a different story.

“Nothing you've got,” she tells Dean before turning to Castiel. His eyes narrow and she can feel that gaze go straight to her core but she doesn't back down. “You, on the other hand, have something significantly more valuable than a mere human soul.”

There's only the faintest flicker of surprise before he gives her a look that has her half expecting to get struck down or, at the very least, for their little meeting to abruptly end on such a blasphemous note.

“What's she talking about, Cas?” Dean asks. “What – your Grace?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers, still staring her down. There's a heat in his gaze that almost rivals the looks he gives Dean – an entirely different sort of heat, of course, though it's strange how the two appear similar, how the look he gives a demon he'd love nothing more than to smite is only subtly different from the look he gives the human he'd obviously like to fuck. She's glad she knows how to tell the difference.

Dean snorts. “You're barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”

Perhaps, but Bela's nothing if not persistent and she's not done yet. “You didn't let me finish my sales pitch,” she says. “I only want to borrow it. I'll give it back as soon as I'm done. Barely even a scratch, nothing you won't be able to heal.”

“Yeah, right. That's what Crowley said about Bobby's soul, too.”

“I'm not Crowley.”

“What the hell's a demon gonna do with an angel's Grace anyway?”

“Sorry, that's need to know. You don't.”

“And when you're finished, you'll simply toss Sam back into the cage, is that it?” Castiel says.

“I should,” Bela shrugs. “But I won't. That would just put us right back where we started. And besides, I always rather liked Sam.”

Castiel isn't stupid – far from it – and she knows he doesn't trust her, lets his gaze search her, digging for any loophole or trick she might have hidden up her sleeve, confident that he'll find none. “How long do you intend to keep it?”

“Hard to say,” she says evasively. “Could be a few months.”

“Or it could be years.”

“Trust me, it won't be that long. Neither of us has that kind of patience.”

“Why?”

“I can't tell you.”

He doesn't look any less suspicious – it really is annoying the way no one ever believes her when she's being honest – but there's a definite shift in his expression. Dean senses it too. “C'mon, Cas, you gotta know she's lying.”

“Quiet, sweetie. The grown-ups are talking.” She meets Dean's furious glare with a smile before turning back to the angel. “Castiel, look me in the eye. You know I can't lie here. I'm as bound by the terms of the deal as anyone. If I say I'll return your precious Grace, then I have to do it.” It's an unfortunate fact – for once in her existence she isn't lying. There's more to the story, mind you, things that she isn't telling them but none of them are relevant to the exchange. She has every intention of restoring his Grace, unharmed, as soon as she gets what she wants.

“Both of them,” Cas says after a beat. “Not just Sam. Adam, too.”

“I suppose,” Bela sighs. “I'm already making a trip to the cage, might as well grab them both.”

He nods but doesn't say anything else. She's sure she has him, sure he's just about to agree when Dean reasserts himself and pulls Cas off to the side. “You're not seriously thinking about this.”

“The circumstances are far from ideal, but --”

“You think? She's a demon, Cas. Worse, she's _Bela_. There's always a catch. She's gonna find some way to weasel out of it.”

Castiel looks at her, same dubious stare as ever. She can feel it – that he _knows_ she's keeping something from them, but he can at least see that she isn't lying. “Not this time.”

“So, we're working with demons now, huh?”

“It wouldn't be the first time.”

“Yeah, because every other time has worked out _swell_. C'mon, Cas --” They go on arguing for a while but Bela tunes their voices out, bored. The things they don't say are much more fascinating anyway, that energy between them flaring and sizzling. Eventually they stop talking altogether, communicating in some silent language that's much more raw and honest than anything they could ever put into words. She half expects something to snap, half thinks they might start going at each other right then and there.

Not that she would mind.

“Deal.”

She blinks her thoughts away. “Sorry?”

“You have a deal,” Castiel says, and it's somewhat flattering the way he makes it sound like it's quite possibly the _most_ regrettable thing he's ever done.

“Good.”

No one moves. Cas is standing like he's waiting for something, like he expects her to waltz over and rip his Grace right out of his chest. She just keeps smiling at him.

Dean chuckles. “Pucker up, Casanova.”

“Excuse me?”

“You made the deal, you get to kiss her.”

The look in Castiel's eyes is so close to disgust that Bela is almost offended. She rolls her eyes. “You're the one who summoned her,” Cas tells Dean gravely. “Technically, you should be the one to seal it.”

He has a point, but _really_. She isn't much more thrilled about the arrangement than they are. But she makes the rules now, and the thought of kissing either of them isn't half as interesting as the thought of them kissing each other.

“No worries, boys. I'm sure we can work out some sort of compromise. But given the trouble I'll have to go through to get you what you want, it's going to take a lot more than a kiss.”

-

It starts off awkward.

It's not a question of whether or not they want to do it – they _do_. That much is obvious as soon as the words leave her mouth. Sure, they're taken aback, confused, but once the initial surprise wears off and she assures them that she's perfectly serious, it's clear that neither of them find the prospect unappealing. There's this long silence before anyone finally answers; Castiel looks at her like he's trying to pinpoint just _where_ exactly that thought sprang from, while Dean shuffles nervously and keeps peeking at Cas out of the corner of his eye.

Dean's the one who finally break the ice. “Um,” he starts, clearing his throat. “We could – I mean, if you want – you probably don't even...” Eloquent, as always.

“I have no objections,” Castiel says, quiet but firm.

Their eyes meet, Dean swallows. “Okay,” he breathes, barely even audible. Finally, he turns back to Bela. “Okay then.”

She spirits them away from the deserted crossroads, where there are no comfortable positions available for _anyone_ involved, to an unoccupied hotel suite – she may be a demon now but she still has class. It's nicer than anything Winchesters will ever be able to afford in a lifetime, huge and spacious, with a single, very inviting king-sized bed.

Bela maneuvers one of the chairs to just the right spot – a respectable distance away from the bed but close enough to provide an amazing view – and settles in and waits. Dean rubs the back of his neck. “This is so awkward.”

“Just pretend I'm not here,” she says. “What? You've _never_ done it with someone watching?”

Dean glares at her, but Bela's obviously not the only one who's tired of stalling; Castiel places a hand on Dean's arm, gentle but the intent is there in the way he looks into Dean's eyes as he rakes his fingers across the skin. Dean lets about a breath like he's been holding it for a week. “Okay.”

They move closer to the bed and face each other, hands grazing skin and clothing, flitting from one spot to the next like they're not sure where to put them. Dean peels back Castiel's trench coat and blazer, only getting slightly tangled along the way before tossing them to the floor. They sort of hover in each other's space, like there's an invisible barrier between them that they never quite break.

Castiel sighs. “Dean,” he says, tone laced with impatience and something Bela can't quite place. “If you don't want to do this --”

“God, no, I do,” Dean says quickly. “I just – I _do_ , Cas.” He leans in, closing the space between them until their lips touch. It's not enough to even be called a kiss until Castiel surges forward, bringing a hand to the back of Dean's neck and searing their mouths together.

With that, the show is finally on the road. Bela relaxes into the cushioned back of her chair.

Whatever had been holding them back a moment earlier melts away instantly – they move together, pressing against each other, pulling each other in until they're almost melded together and it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Fingers tangle in hair and clothes, breathy moans pass from one mouth to the other and it's impossible to know which one it came from. Dean lowers his hands to Castiel's hips, grinding them together; Castiel licks his way into Dean's mouth, nipping his bottom lip. It's sort of perfect, the way they instinctively give and take, the way they fit together and move with a unique harmony that's all but mesmerizing – it's all much hotter than it should be when they're _still fully clothed_.

They part for air that only one of them really needs and the spell is momentarily broken. It's back to awkward movements, side-stepping one another as they climb onto the bed without any grace whatsoever. Then they're back to square one, not sure who should go where, like bloody teenagers or something and Bela barely contains a snort. Dean is supposed to be the one with all the experience and he's acting more uncoordinated than Cas, who actually has the excuse of being a virgin.

Dean leans back onto the bed, settling against the pillows, pulling Cas with him. Their lips meet and it doesn't take them long to find their niche again, falling back into rhythm like they never lost the beat. Cas straddles Dean's hips and shoves his t-shirt up, dragging his hands over the newly exposed flesh. Dean yanks at Castiel's tie, pulling it loose before he starts at the buttons of his shirt. Arms get tangled, trying to do too many things at once, and Castiel moves his hands to Dean's hips until his shirt completely open and off, promptly followed by Dean's.

They press their chests together and Castiel moves his mouth lower, to Dean's jaw and neck, over to his left shoulder; he presses his tongue flat against the tattoo on Dean's chest, closes his mouth around it and sucks. Dean's hands roam over Castiel's back, nails digging in at his shoulder blades, and Cas arches sharply into the touch, trailing kisses down Dean's stomach.

And they should really be naked already – honestly, _why_ are their pants still on? – but, surprising even herself, Bela can't complain about the pace. It's more exploratory than intentionally teasing, like they've just found themselves onto something new and incredible and they're trying to savor it. She can get behind that.

Dean pushes on Castiel's shoulder; he can't move him but Cas gets the message and moves to lie on his back, letting Dean climb on top. They kiss, all tongue and teeth, open and hungry. At this angle, Bela notices the handprint on Dean's shoulder and can't help staring. Castiel's hand trails up that arm and when he fits his hand perfectly over the mark and presses, Dean's whole body shudders, hips rocking downward, making them both groan. _“Cas,”_ Dean breathes against the angel's mouth before moving lower, trailing kisses down his throat to his chest. He pauses to pull a nipple between his teeth, making Castiel's breath hitch, then he keeps going, all the way down, until he's nuzzling the bulge in Castiel's slacks.

The pants and underwear come down in one swift movement before they're strewn across the floor, along with shoes and socks. Bela finds herself frozen right along with Dean, heat rising inside her, just taking in the sight of Cas, naked and exposed, skin glowing in the light from the bedside lamp, looking every bit the otherworldly creature he is.

She blinks and Dean springs into action, moving back up and taking the head of Castiel's cock in his mouth. Cas keens, lifting his hips in a silent request for more and Dean obliges, taking him deeper, sucking harder. He wraps one hand around the base of Cas' cock, the other pressed flat against his stomach, nails gently kneading the flesh. Castiel covers that hand with one of his own and lets the other rest on the back of Dean's head, combing through his hair.

Dean pulls off for air and Bela marvels at the sight, his lips plump and red and slick. She almost gets up then, almost marches over and kisses him, licking into his swollen mouth and tasting Castiel there. It's unbelievably tempting but she manages to stay put – next time, she thinks, because there is _absolutely_ going to be a next time.

Dean crawls up Castiel's body, pressing their mouths together before Cas flips them again, pinning Dean to the mattress. He removes the rest of Dean's clothes quickly, kneeling at the edge of the bed to slip off his boots, but he takes his time on the journey back up, placing little experimental kisses to nearly every inch of skin, pausing to pay extra attention to any spot that pulls those shamefully needy noises from Dean's throat. It's amazing how at ease Cas is. Bela doesn't know if he's learning by example, mimicking Dean's motions and then running wild with them, making them his own, or if it's muscle memory, leftover residue from whatever poor sap he got that exquisite body from, basic instinctual knowledge that's always been there waiting for Cas to tap into it. His distinct otherness shines through all the while – his movements are too graceful, too fluid when he drapes his body over Dean's, sliding in place between his legs like they were designed to fit together; his eyes are too bright, too intense when they bore into Dean's, like he could hold him in place with that look and Bela wonders what it feels like to on the receiving end of it.

They start to move, Dean's hips lifting up as Castiel's grind down, cocks sliding against one another between them. It's easy to get as caught up in it as they are, clearly forgetting that they aren't alone, that anything exists outside of that bed. But the moment is lost, for Bela at least, when Dean mutters something too low for her to make out. She's happy to just sit back and watch what happens, but let's not forget who's really in charge here.

“Speak up, love.”

Dean grits out what's probably meant to be _bitch_ but turns into a strangled moan when Castiel's teeth clamp down on his neck, tongue darting out to soothe the bite. “I want you to fuck me,” he says, louder this time, and then snaps at Bela, _“if that's okay with you.”_

She can't help grinning. “There's nothing I'd love more.”

Cas sits back on his heels while Dean scoots up on the bed, eyes darting to the nightstand. “Top drawer,” Bela says, earning her a frustrated huff. He retrieves the tube she's thoughtfully supplied (a step ahead of them, as usual) and hands it to Cas. It takes a second for them to get coordinated again, but before long Castiel's slick hand dips down between Dean's legs and Bela has to bite back a noise of her own at the way Dean tenses, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. He slowly starts to relax, little by little, as Cas works him open. She can't actually see it happening but what she has is good enough: the muscles in Castiel's arm flexing as he moves, the way his eyes are fixed on where his fingers disappear inside Dean, Dean's hips pushing back into Cas' hand, the positively delightful sounds he's making.

“Dean,” Castiel says and all Dean can do is nod. Bela sits up a little straighter in anticipation, watching Cas line himself up, leaning in to kiss Dean before he _finally_ sinks in. The blood rushes through her veins, pooling between her legs as she takes it in, relishing that delicious _ah_ that escapes Castiel's lips, the way Dean's eyes squeeze shut, his head falling back against the pillow. She'd love to slip in there beside them, trace the curve of Castiel's spine with her tongue, nip and suck at Dean's exposed neck.

She doesn't breathe again until Cas starts to move. The pace is slow at first, all long, careful thrusts, gradually gaining momentum as they slip into an easy rhythm. Dean groans, digs his fingers into Castiel's hips, urging him deeper.

Bela rubs lazy patterns on her thigh but doesn't go any farther than that. She doesn't want to miss a moment – later, when she's held up her end of the bargain and she's alone, she'll think back to this and she wants to remember every glorious detail. The shape of Castiel's mouth, the sound Dean makes when Cas hits just the right spot, that little _slap slap slap_ , their ragged breathing, Dean's obscenities, the way say each other's names, how utterly wrecked they both look. Maybe she'll come back here, spread out on the same bed they're in now, touch herself on sheets that still smell like them.

Their rhythm falters, Castiel's hips snap forward out of time. Dean slips a hand between them and Cas' follows, both of them gripping Dean's cock and stroking. It doesn't take much before Dean comes, spilling over their hands and stomachs, his free hand clawing at Castiel's back.

Cas isn't far behind. The lamp on the nightstand flickers a few times and then bursts. Bela only sees his face for a second – forehead pressed to Dean's chest, lips parted in a silent cry – before the room goes dark.

She doesn't get up yet, just sits and listens. She can hear them panting, bodies shifting, little moans and curses and names here and there. When their breathing finally slows and the rooms grow quiet, she gets up and turns on a light. They don't even notice, lying side by side, limbs tangled, trading lazy open-mouthed kisses. It's a shame to interrupt such lovely afterglow, but playtime is over and there's business to attend to. She stands at the foot of the bed and clears her throat.

Dean can't even muster up the energy to glare at her, just groans and rolls onto his back. Cas sits up, meeting her eyes, resigned, and only flinches a little when her fingers brush his temple. The touch is mostly for effect, since there's no real physical manifestation of the exchange. Castiel's eyelashes flutter and he gasps like she's just knocked the air out of him, but that's about it, and then it's over. Pretty anticlimactic, really.

“Til next time, boys,” she smiles and heads for the door.

“Bela,” Dean calls after her, voice hoarse and low. “What about Sam? And Adam?”

“By the time you get to Kansas I'm sure they'll be right where you left them.”

She pauses for one more look at them, sitting naked on rumpled sheets, sweat still clinging to their skin, before she lets the door quietly click shut behind her.


End file.
